The 134th: Pre-Games
by OrenjiJemi
Summary: Hunger Games/Human(ish?) AU WIR! Wherein everyone is the main character, and almost everyone dies, and adventures ensue because no one writing this story grasps the concept of a serious plot past death, angst, and a copious amount of semi-important characters. Will link to later main story, has a blog. See Ch. 12 end notes, and end notes from then on.
1. Sherry Sundae, Capitol

**I want to do something**

**and it's gonna be awesome**

**let's see if this shit works**

**-Jemi**

* * *

Eccentric and colorful, proud and the farthest from modest that one could be, the blonde strides onto the stage, her sparkly, gloved hands waving to the vast audience in front of her; her platinum blonde hair and ice blue eyes were the only things to stay untouched (The latter was debatable however; they looked exceptionally glittery tonight).

"Hello, Panem!"

* * *

**That's right. I'm doing the Humger Games thing with Sugar Rush, because it's been, like, more than a year, WHY HASN'T ANY COMPETENT AUTHOR DONE IT. Whatever.**

**Warning:**

**-Spontaneous updates**

**-Currently, only OC mentors, reps, and side characters, subject to change, given that I'm going to ask SOMEONE about SOMETHING.**

**FEATURING: Honey Potts, by VickyT36**


	2. Swizzle Malarkey, District 1

** 2 follows already, yay!**

**-Orenji**

* * *

A boy in green and blue, raised in the richest District, stood at the ready. Not for something serious, of course. At the small age of twelve, and raised unlike the rest, more gently, in a harmonic household, it was the last thing to cross his mind, a duel or a life-threatening game of survival or anything _serious _at all. No, it was nothing but a completely UN-serious race, for a childhood well spent, and a child unprepared.

As the raspy voice of an old maid called, he shot off, along with another boy the same age, said maid's grandson. He easily beat the other as he crossed the threshold, into the spacious front room of his home.

His shoulder was abruptly caught, and as his head shot up, his eyes caught ones akin to his own dull purple ones.

"F-father." He greeted, never having grown used to this man, not in all of the years he'd lived in the same house.

"Don't falter, son." His father chided, solemn. "It is the day of the Reaping. I assume you're ready to go?"

He nodded silently.

* * *

"And now, the male tribute!" She had bubblegum pink lips, and eyes, and hair, and...a lot of things were very bubblegummy about the middle-aged Representative, and, as if her home wasn't clear enough, the Capitol accent was extremely thick in her voice.

"Swizzle Malarkey!"

* * *

**Spontaneous as hell, I tell you.**

**-Jemi**


	3. Taffyta Muttonfudge, District 1

**Interesting fact.**

**I'm a living grammatical error.**

**-Jemi**

* * *

The teen girl hissed, the stinging sensation in her arm not subsiding.

"Gah, _ow." _she muttered, peering down at the cut in her arm, uncovered by the pink tank top she was clad in. After a moment of silence, her icy eyes shot up, looking to the others watching in the sparring arena,"What?" This seemed to break the fellow students and staff out of their shared stupor slightly, as a few went to either get a first aid kit or came directly to her, trying to aid the star pupil in moving, though she shrugged them off. "It's a minor injury, I can deal."

"We'll be seeing a lot of this soon, anyway." One of the other students tried to joke, hinting at the coming Reaping and her decision, to volunteer.

"No," the unsteady grip of her bleeding arm suddenly caught the unnamed student's own,"You will not." With that, her suffocating grip dropped suddenly, and she was walking back into the shadows of the main school building.

* * *

"I volunteer!"

The woman in pink looked down into the crowd, for the single volunteer. Unlike usually, no one else tried, where she'd usually have dozens of willing candidates. It was as if no one wanted to dispute this one. "And your name?" Oh well, she wasn't complaining.

"Taffyta Mottunfudge."

* * *

**Just to say, this won't alway be a daily thing. I just happen to have time, and excess creative inspiration (I just quit my art club because it was filled with hipsters and assholes).**

**-Jemi**


	4. Caramelia and Co, District 1

**I like this center-aligned thing I've got going on. It's nice.**

**Okay, so, as a brief explanation, each District will have a set of chapters, and they'll vary in number depending on how many characters I and Jem plan for that particular District. For example, Districts such as 1 and 3 have a set of five each, 2 tribs, 1 mentor (and an add-on doctor/hubby), 1 rep, and then a chapter where they're all together and such. Some Districts may not even HAVE any named characters, and I may resort to fucking up everyone's pronouns.**

**-Orenji**

* * *

She was strong, mentally and physically, and it was rather obvious, as was the case when you never wore sleeves and were often manhandling _something. _She was deceptive in the newspapers and documentaries, all motherly smiles and demeanor more expected of a woman of her age. Rightfully, she should've had children of her own, should've inherited her family's theatre, and shouldn't have been carted off to the Capitol every year for the accursed Hunger Games, with every other living Victor.

"What could I possibly do with this?" The package dangled in front of her, held by a doctor.

"Pills." he answered simply, dropping them on the table. "Take them, or you will _probably _die."

"Probably?" The former career scoffed,"_Probably? _Buck up, hun! You should know this!"

"It's estimated, but there isn't yet anything to tell if it'll definitely happen." He said, a bit more quietly.

"Fuck you, hun. I'm not takin' shit if I'm not ABSOLUTELY going to die without it." The brunette objected, leaning her elbow on the desk, chin rested in her hand.

"You should." He sighed, mirroring her position, as to reach eye level, though she averted her gaze soon after, changing her posture to lean back in the chair.

"Dove?" She asked. Not giving him time to acknowledge her vocally, she continued on,"Why, if I'm so mentally unstable and apparently an alcoholic, whatever the hell that's supposed to mean, am I always the one stuck mentoring the impressionable youth?"

"You know why."

"No I don't." She protested.

"Yes you _do, _I know you do." he still kept the composure, years of experience for his exclusive patient kicking in.

"Sure." though she said it in a sarcastic tone implying the opposite, she did, in fact, know. Every Victor knew.

The argument escalated, neither one would yell, though the sparks in her golden-brown eyes and the quiver of his left hand implicated well-kept anger.

It finally subsided, to the point that the Victor got bored, quick-witted even when plagued with the aftermath of her binges, and exited.

He called down the corridor,"Alcoholic: a person suffering from alcoholism!"

"Alcoholism?"

"You're insufferable!"

"As are you, luv!" She called back.

A ring gleamed on Caramelia Popfrey's left hand as she left.

* * *

**I swear, the next chapter won't suck.**

**-Jemi**


	5. Chicle, District 1

**NEXT CHAPTER: A brief intermission, to announce the ending of a District's first chapters. **

**(No, that doesn't mean *your favorite character* won't appear again! it just means they won't be the focus of the chapter for a while.)**

**aka, the pretty people discuss.**

**Boop.**

**-Orenji**

* * *

"So, my lovely cohorts of District 1!" she started excitedly, legs crossed and posture elegant. Her pale pink eyes glittered; though it was artificial, it was beautiful. As far as Capitol citizens went, she was rather...tame. Her makeup was, at the most, extremely flamboyant, as were her clothes. Though her eyes were a pale pink, and her hair a shade darker, contrasting with unearthly pale skin, she had none of the deformities and strange, surgery-induced ears, fangs, and things alike. The strangest trait she could be seen to have, was a very prominent passion for the color pink. At the age of twenty, she was considerably modest for her kind, though she was _still _far to "Capitol" for anyone outside of those barriers.

The Mentor sighed in annoyance,"Did we really have to bring my husband?"

The Representative's head cocked to the side, and her bubblegum smile faltered as she spoke,"Hm...the medic? He was listed in your documents as a necessity, I suppose he had to..." it came back soon after,"He's your hubby? Oh, how precious!" To this, she only received a grunt. An awkward silence followed.

Finally, her hands clapped together and she looked to the others in the train compartment with a newfound confidence,"Right! So, I'm _Chicle, _just Chicle, and you can think of me as a guardian angel, I'll guid you through these coming events and look cute as a button all of the way..." She started,

* * *

**REVIEW BECAUSE ITS A GOOD THING TO DO.**

**Seriously.**

**If you've ever taken the time to write and expose all of the little talent you've got, and you see that a good amount of people viewed it, then I'm sure you'd want to know what they thought. Did they hate it, look at the screen in disappointment and click away, or did the love the SHIT out of it, and just not take the time?**

**These are the questions that keep me awake at night.**

**\- Jemi**


	6. District 1

**There's a word for everything**

**and a zorse (horse-zebra offspring) is a thing**

**and Germany literally has a hotline that you can call to yell at and swear as you'd like to vent anger**

**and I've been seriously busy on tumblr.**

**And I completed Puella Magi Madoka Magica within the space of 17 hours. **

**Thats the fucked-up movies, too.**

**I CRIED THRE TIMES, DAMMIT.**

**Yup.**

**EVERYTHING IS EXPLAINED.**

**-Jemi**

* * *

The image flickered in, and as the sudden shock of pink reflected off of the shiny black floor, the overwhelmingly large audience applauded the return of a much-missed icon, one of the representatives and "everyone's innocent little sister", or "Princess Chicle", or something of that nature; the point was, she was the Capitol's one and only little darling.

The three-dimensional image of the young woman flickered in, and quickly went from staticky to translucent to just...there. As soon as this process finished, the representative seemed to smile even brighter.

"Hullo, Miss Chicle!" The hostess was the first to speak, not a second later, with the enthusiasm seen in anyone of her placement.

The pinkette returned, a bit calmer,"How do you do, Sherry?" She sat on the chair opposite Sherry, hands folded in her lap.

"Very well, but it's you and your new tributes we're focussing on, dear," Sherry went on,"Before the footage of the Reaping is released to the public, can you tell us a bit about the picks?"

"Hmmm...not technically, no." Chicle smiled a bit mischievously, eyes twinkling,"But maybe a bit."

"Oh, you _rebel!" _The host said in mock-shock, leaning out a bit more, as if to pay closer attention,"Go on, then."

Chicle though for a moment, then snapped her fingers in realization,"Ah! I can tell you the mentors haven't changed much since last year."

"So our lovely Caramelia is coming back to us?"

Chicle nodded. "Yup. And we've also got quite the little cutie to work with this year, too. I swear, he's only just started getting his name entered this year!" She squealed a bit, looking to the audience,"I promise, you'll love him."

Sherry brought the attention back to herself,"And what of the female."

"Oh," Chicle's shoulders dropped, though her cheery aura soon returned,"A volunteer, as usual, um..." She seemed as if she was trying to find something special to say about the girl.

Eventually catching on, Sherry saved,"Let's expect big things from her!"

"And from the District in general, at that." Chicle noted, smiling.

"Well, we're nearly out of time. Any last thoughts?"

"I've shared enough of my secrets. Goodnight, Miss Sundae."


	7. Charlotte Antoinette, District 2

**Orlando, Orlando, here I COME!**

**-Orenji**

* * *

When she sees the bright light flashing, she lets out a screech. Not too loud, because the last time someone did that with an echo in here, at least two other workers went deaf. As she'd buried her head in her arms and turned away, she shot back after a moment of silence, glaring with brown eyes. She scorned,"Oh- my- _gosh. _Do you know anything? We're in a giant cavern and you just scared the fuck out of me and I almost _screamed! _You just can't _do _that."

The reporter scuttled away, scared out of her mind. "S-sorry!" She called quickly as she exited the building, the last things to be seen her snow-covered dull brown hair and peculiar choice in warm-weather clothing, even in these winter months.

"You should be..." The worker muttered.

"You!" A hushed voice called to her, a professional-looking man storming in. "I understand your refusal to work with others and disregard for the education that teaches you to handle them, but that was the only reporter we were planning to let in this month, and you scared her away within the first fifteen minutes!"

The raven-haired girl huffed, shrugging passively,"It would have happened anyway. I'm not the worst that the marketplace has to offer."

"I know for a fact that that's not true."

She pouted mockingly,"But I'm only a little girl, Harris."

The man sighed, running his hand through slicked-back hair,"You're 16, Miss. You're family is powerful enough, start acting like it."

She frowned, annoyance and confusion showing in the flash across her eyes. "I _do, _Harris. I'm a spoiled brat who knows how to make people hater her. What more could you possibly ask for?"

"An employee who talks less than she works," Harris pulled his clipboard up, crawling something down. "You're scheduled for another hour to pay off what you just cost us in publicity."

"Fuck you, Mister Periwinkle!" though he had already turned and started walking away, the obscene gesture was practically visible in her voice alone.

He replied, voice measured with a steely vibe,"Don't be late for the Reaping, dear,"

* * *

"Charlotte Antoinette!"

* * *

**And in the mess of it all, I just wanted a character for Snow Caps. I have an observation about Snow Caps, and it's basically just that they're everything your parents tell you not to eat.**

**Snow caps are straight just a normal over abundance of sugar poured onto little chocolate chips. **

**And I'm using them to mask the fact that I deserted this story for like MONTHS. It is literally the SEVENTH month of the year. We are officially in the second half of 2014, guys.**

**-Orenji**


	8. Mary, District 2

**Did you notice we've been gone for several months, because I sure didn't.**

**-Jemi**

* * *

"W-what?!"

"You've got the world to choose from, dear."

She'd held back after the other tribute - a bulky, sullen boy with a forgettable name (just the kind of kid who was probably going to win this year) - had gone. The number of past victors was tremendous; 2 had always been known for this kind of thing (You know, fighting to the death.).

"...I..." Charlotte fidgeted, fingers digging into the fabric of her jacket. She wasn't so much confused or nervous as she was contemplating. With competiton like even her own district partner she'd be outmatched, that was clear. So, maybe just make this interesting.

"Get me Mary."

"...Dear, that's only a legend-"

"No it's not."

"...Are you sure? Positive?"

"Do I look unsure?"

"I highly advise against it, I must say." And yet, as he said this, the man sifted through the keys on the large ring he held in one hand, bringing up one- rusted, mended on several occasions (and she _swore _that was dried blood), unclipping it and handing it to her hesitantly.

She smirked, snatching it instantly,"Thank you!" And she bounced off, towards a house at the end of the street, looking perfectly maintained and pristine, though it gave off an unexplainable eery aura.

* * *

She unlocked the door quietly, opening it and walking into the dark building. The only light sources came from the window at the end of the hall, and a cracked door on her right, in around the middle of the corridor.

"...Hello?" She called, but got no response. Walking slowly, and as silently as she could in the heels that had been put on her feet by the representative to "improve her first impression" when meeting with her mentor, she reached the door moments later, reaching a hand out to push it open.

_"Don't." _What? What the hell was that, even?

Charlotte's eyes widened immediately as the foreign voice whispered through her ears. She, however, had no time to respond to this- she was all too busy dodging the knife the came whizzing past her head, jamming into the off-while wall opposite the door.

The room in front of her was rather...nice. Clean. In order. Brightly lit by a chandelier that hung eight-or-so feet above her head, and filled like a dining room should be. A shining, clean dark table with wood you'd often see in the forests of District 2, a matching set of twelve chairs around the long oval, and accents of dull blue and purple flowers she, with her limited knowledge of flora, couldn't quite place the names of.

Of course, once she'd gotten used to the décor of the room, she noticed the tense and seething fair-haired man across from her, clutching a kitchen towel and spray bottle in one fist, the other having been raised, as if he'd just thrown something (oh). His violet eyes flashed.

"What the_ FUCK _are you doing in my home, you filthy vagrant?"

And that's how she meant her mentor, whom she could not disband, and who would be in charge of preparing her for the fight of her life.

* * *

**/wanted an excuse for knifey and presumably hot character/**

**yeah**

**-Jemi**


	9. District 2

**So. I fucking hate district 2, feel like I've done it enough injustice, and therefore it doesn't matter much anymore.**

**However, I digress. That "starring" should be coming up soon.**

**-Jemi**

* * *

"So,...you!"

"Sears."

"What an original name!" Sherry lied. It was not an original name. Well, no, it _was, _but not in a good way.

"...Uhm, yes."

"So, your district! Should we expect any big things from them this year? District 1's female competitor might just take up the place of a head Career, this year..."

The nondescript man grinned suddenly,"Oh, I highly doubt it, with the mentors we have this year. I'll admit, the boy is par on his own, but I truly think that the mentor dour female has been given will be...interesting."

"Give us a little hint?" Sherry graced him with an expectant smile, leaning in.

The hologram tsk'ed without a word, and the hostess sighed in defeat,"Ah, well. It looks like that's all the time we have." As the hologram of the Capitol man flickered out, she turned her attention back to the audience,"Now, for District 3!"


	10. Citruseli Flugpucker, District 3

It wasn't ever sunny here. Not past the wires and that ever-present blimp that was, apparently, meant to leave in two hours (which was at least two _years_ ago), blocking out any light that might have made it to his humble abode.

Certainly, he wasn't against the darkness completely- it made it easier to see the dim light on the multiple monitors littered around the room, but it made wiring a complete _bitch._

His was not a hard story to understand. He went to school as per the usual in the general academia of a District, graduated, and, at sixteen, having not made it into the one of the maybe three colleges currently established in Panem (and, more specifically, the Capitol) with his limited skillset, moved out of the cramped-as-hell dorms and into the, likewise cramped, apartment sector, specifically going for a lower level in the building he was assigned to at the time (and what a god-awful decision that had been). The few interesting things about him were, as far as he knew, limited to a list of three traits: Good at science, good with a gun, purple hair.

He was rather socially inept and a bit of an asshole, but he didn't know if either of those things were really interesting. Those were both staples of the teens of his District, really.

As he remained laying on his bed, uncaring of the small chips and the metal bits that had been over the sheets for weeks, now jabbing him in the back, as the did every day, he found himself idly remembering this again. It isn't as if he could get much done like this, anyway. His lightbulbs had all gone out at some point this morning, most likely in affect to whatever experimentation his new neighbor was getting out of his-or-her system-

_KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK_

Oh, hell. He really thought he could coax himself into sleeping in today. What did they _want?_

"Up and at 'em, minor!" A voice boomed through the door. The building manager?

He slid off of the lumpy bed, brushing his dull violet T-shirt down and plucking a needle or two out of the rough fabric of his worn grey pants, trudging over to the door lazily. However, by the time he had opened it and peaked his head out, the short brunette building manager had moved on down the hall.

He made a half-assed attempt at calling after her, but shrugged as she predictably didn't hear him, and moved straight to plan be grabbing the crisp white collar of a younger kid and pulling him back as he walked shakily down the hall after her.

"Y-yes?" He must've been fairly new to the building (but who was he to talk? Jed hardly been here a year and a half,), but there was no reason to be this shaky.

The elder male frowned, and inquired gruffly as he gestured around, and after the caretaker,"What...what is...?"

The teen blinked, but said hesitantly,"It's the Reaping, if that's what you mean? Uh..." He probably would have said more, but the drowsy male in front of him nodded once almost unnoticably, and he soon found himself alone in the hall.

* * *

Where was the representative?

First he was just sort of standing there, and then suddenly, woah! Forced up onto the small stage.

Once the place had quieted, it took him, and most likely everyone else, nearly a minute to actually regain himself from his confusion, and it was only then that he noticed the young-faced blonde on the stage. As far as Capitol folk went, he could have very well passed for no more than a Career District, but his crisp clothing and odd choice of reflective opera glasses gleaming out at he crowd set him a bit apart.

As soon as he caught him, he was gone, though. Instead of hearing his name, as he was forced to the stage, he could see letters flashing on the screen above,:

_"CITRUSELI FLUGPUCKER"_

Really, he preferred Eli.


	11. Honey Potts, District 3

He looked rather small, she noted. She had been handed his documents immediately after he was selected (was this system rigged? Did the have psychics on hand?), and it looked like he was on the cusp of turning seventeen. Good marksman, top of his class in science, but fairly sub-par grades overall. Gene-spliced to be born and grow with purple hair, a wired choice, but not unheard of.

She felt...bad, because the way he looked at the camera was like it was on the other side of a wall, with the rest of the world, and she felt like she couldn't help. It was unbecoming for her to think in such a way though, as this tribute's last hope.

* * *

It didn't take her long to get ahold of him in all of the crowds, and she walked alongside the boy and the peacekeeper with him. "I'm not really supposed to approach you before we get on the train, but it doesn't really look like anyone is waiting and-" oops, no, that sounds bad,"Y-you like science?"

"I'm good at science." Eli answered frankly.

"The two don't always equate, sorry…"

"I like science."

_Then why did you…? _"Uhm- I do too." It was kind of impossible not to, in this district, but,"I like space stuff a lot, I think I'm better with biology, though."

"I bet it helps in the arena."

"It does!" She hit a note, she did the thing! Loudly, though. "Uh, it does. A lot." It's how she had won. Practical knowledge, no direct killing. She was grateful for that. They were boarding the train now, and she didn't really know how to continue the conversation. He eventually stopped, and entered a room without saying anything else.

Oh, okay. Must be his cabin.

The mentor sighed, and kept walking, mumbling an "excuse me" to the peacekeeper still standing outside of the cabin door.

* * *

She flopped down in one of the chairs of the communal car, slumping in the chair and closing her eyes as she ruminated upon the events of the day.

"...Not all of them are going to like you, Honey."

She cracked her eyes open, not immediately greeted with the golden ones of the speaker, but none the less feeling them boring into her. "The other mentor having this much of a problem?"

She'd have been startled, had she not met the Capitol representative in the second-to-last Games as well. He knew things about her, about people, really, that most would rather most people not, but she personally thought he did interrogated gently enough for her to be comfortable with it.

"I know, I'm not sure I'm used to it, however. I'm….afraid for him. I'm afraid I have….nothing to offer?"

"Or too much." He suggested,"Too much to offer, but in no way that he'll accept."

"Yes, that's it." She nodded along, brushing back hair that had been pulled loose from her formal bun (it would usually be loose, or at least messy, but today was important).

"He's somewhat unresponsive. I assume it's more out of habit than because of you."

She hummed in understanding.

"It may be due to something of a loss of purpose, or no reason to really fight the impending threat of death." He slid forward so he was in her, line of sight,"Find him a purpose."

"What purpose could he possibly sought after?"

"That…" Carnell paused, frowning a bit in thought,"...that could take further observation."

She snorted,"We have, like, a week."

"Fast observation."

"...Thank you, Carnell."

"No problem, Miss Potts."

* * *

**Kinda touchy-feely, not really regretting that, I feel like worrying is something this character does with a sort of motherly style. 100% do not regret**

**-Jemi**


	12. Carnell Popfrey, District 3

"Bon-bon's mentoring again this year," the voice belonging to the cherubic face on his holo-screen chimed,"She's sooooo pretty! If she weren't such a drunk-"

"-and. Married. Super, way older than you, and married." And my mother, for Mod's sake. "You aren't that desperate, Killer. You aren't a trouble-maker, not this publicly, at least."

"Sooooo, so, SO, pretty."

"...bide your time. Don't make a move on the woman if you think it will cause something you can't control." Well dammit, if he couldn't stop it, he could regulate, at least. He didn't need a broken heart, or two, on his hands.

"Yeah, yeah. See you later, you grump. Why can't you ever just support my decisions?" Without waiting for a reply, the connection was broken, and then he really felt alone in this cabin.

He opted to stay put. Think about it a little.

* * *

Soon, something other than his mother's love life occupied his thoughts. Something with big glasses and a face that was too kind to have survived what it had.

"H-hey, Carnell!"

He grinned, thank god, I forgot she was mentoring this year…

"Hello, Miss Potts," He smiled, look softening instantly.

"The Reaping's going to start soon, you should probably start getting ready," Honey returned his smile hesitantly, fumbling with her dress with one hand absentmindedly.

"Oh, thank you, if it weren't for you, I'm afraid no one would've found me." The rep checked his pocket for his opera glasses, and, finding them clipped onto the chain hanging from his chest safely, stood.

"I'm surprised I had to," Honey returned, stepping back to allow him room to move,"You're usually pretty in-the-moment."

Carnell shook his head,"Friend called, she gave me...some things to think about."

"Always thought Capitol conversation would either sound boring or alien."

"With nearly anyone but her. Odd girl, into women twice her age and quite fond of pink."

"Oh," The women giggled despite herself,"How is Chicle doing?"

He laughed,"Quite well. Moral compass is a bit off-"

"-still-"

"-wants to sleep with mom, I think."

"How d'you figure?"

"She said so."

"Sorry, then." Honey smiled more freely now, tugged at his sleeve as she motioned out from where she'd came,"Now, to more somber events. We can do this again this year, yeah?"

He nodded, smile fading slightly as remembers ce struck,"Yeah."

* * *

**Wow, I told you we were gonna update! So did Jemi, we were never gonna give up. We're trying not to update for certain reasons having to do with planning, but so that interest doesn't quell completely...well.**

**Hey! There's a tumblr for this story that we just started, Jemi'll draw some art, we'll talk about stuff and answer questions- it'll be great.**

**Visit us at 134th-the-blog on tumblr! I'd like to put a direct link in but ffnet's a bitch, so, :/**

**-Orenji**


	13. Sticky Wipplesnit, District 4

The water here was always clear.

Or, what she perceived to be clear, if anything- it made her smile when she saw it, and she was very happy that the District's industry depended on this. Clean water, for healthy and plentiful fish, ones that would sell for high prices and only at the cost of motors that she hadn't thought were all that good, anyway.

Oh. The industry. Fishing. She was meant to be fishing right now.

She'd just sort of dived in without really noticing. Really, the water looked so nice and calm today, how could anyone resist?

"Out, now, I almost killed you, oh mod." A voice, female, and- oh, it was one of the older girls from her home.

"Nah, I would've moved!" She grinned up at the girl, oblivious to the danger of the situation.

She shook her head,"Yeah, whatever. Don't swim during work hours, Sticky- and! Hey! That's mine!" She interrupted herself, springing forward at the younger girl, pulling on the raincoat the was resting next to her housemate's tackle box.

"It's cold," Light brown eyes blinked up at her, innocent, and, oh, wow, Sticky could be quite _persuasive_.

"Fine, fine," _You need it more anyway_, she finished in her head, worry lines increasing as she remembered something else. She commanded,"Go back home, get changed. Today's important, Miss will expect us to be ready when she gets back, and you need a bath, anyway. Just stay there, it's near the end of workday, anyhow."

"Yes ma'am," Sticky nodded obediently, walking back to the house.

"And put my coat out to dry!" She called after the teal-haired girl.

* * *

The bow on top of Sticky's head was shiny as all hell, and if it wasn't for the shape, the older girl would have thought it looked like the crown of a princess, especially when the sunlight reflected off of it and you were standing far enough away not to tell the striking differences between the orphan and royalty. She had hair akin to something you'd get in the Capitol, straight posture, a gleaming headdress, and the built up muscle of a lean swimmer's body so she didn't look malnourished like some of the other kids (her) in the home. If you got close, or stared for too long, you would notice the hole in her dress, near the bottom, close to her knee, and the shoes held in her left hand, because she was too attuned to the world around the seaport to be constructed by so much material. Her hair was still wet from bathing, and she had this ratty little anklet with wooden beads. She was no queen.

The called her name, Coriander Wipplesnit, and yet, she was not the one to go up.

Sticky smiled down at her from the stage, was soon joined by a dark-looking boy, shorter than both of them, who shook her hand. Cori didn't miss the wince that Sticky tried to suppress, probably from the noirette's and, _oh my god, she's younger than me and he's probably stronger than he, this is only District 4, and she is not coming home. _

She didn't even care that she was crying. Why did Sticky do this? She was only fucking fifteen...

* * *

**there's a reason why this is being uploaded, at least**

**I've got a bit of an impromptu break and Jemi's testing out her new materials, look at that gd chapter art in the bLOG WHICH YOU SHOULD CHECK OUT not that there's anything there AT 134th-the-blog, on tumblr**

**ITS REALLY QUAINT, AND A BIT AWKWARD, AND JEMI NEEDS A SCANNER**

**-Orenji**


	14. Licortwist Hothead, District 4

There isn't much to say about Licortwist Hothead. He was no one. He had a normal amount of friends, acquaintances, coworkers, whatever. He had the normal amount of visible genetic modifications (red highlights- made to contrast with the water, in the case that he falls in, because they didn't know his hair would be black when his parents ordered it, and the doctors didn't question it when they found out; pale skin that wouldn't burn all that bad in the sun). He worked at the docks, like most teens, for the majority of his time out of school. No one much talked about him, and the voices in his head had no one to lash out at. They had no reason to talk, so they left him alone, so he had no reason to talk, so people left them alone. Him and them, the voice.

He did. He existed. He was content.

* * *

He had gotten in a fight on the docks. It was the first real conflict he'd ever been in, but it was enough. The voice in his head, something of an anti-conscience, it felt like, was roused.

He felt like he'd awoken with it, from the deep, sleepy haze that had been his life thus far, for the last fourteen years.

"...Licortwist."

He wasn't listening, not really. He hummed in acknowledgement, but it was more out of habit.

"Do you understand that what you did was wrong?"

"Yes, mom," He understood a lot more now.

"?And do you know what you have to do?"

"Yes, mom," More, definitely. That probably wasn't what she wanted to hear.

"Tell me," SHIT.

"I have to…" Okay, no, he'd been doing this perfectly fine before, right? And it wasn't ever not an act, he just didn't fully comprehend it all at the time. "...apologize, and take his shifts for the next…?"

"...Two days."

"Yes, mom. I'll do it right now."

At fourteen, a year after this incident, he knew a lot more. The voice was never "the voice",

* * *

rather, his voice, everything he had kept pent up in his head. He had found some small facets to release the tension, weaker workers, the easily manipulated, a darker part of the district. He'd gotten a lot smarter about what he want to do (killstabhurtbreakdestroy) and what he needed to do, and he had crafted a good facade for himself, and had friends in low places for whatever he needed, but-

"I volunteer as tribute!"

It wasn't enough. Life was too mundane. He needed a bigger facet, more control, a future that he would willingly walk into. There was only one way.

* * *

**It's! Finally! Summer!**

**i mean, for Ren. Where she is, she just got off around the end of last week. We're in action again. Sorry for the long wait, especially for the owner of this character, if they were ever watching. Speaking of-**

**Licortwist Hothead belongs to TheDisneyFan365, who filled a p important spot in terms of character types and the male gender in general. Guy seems nice. **

**-Jemi**


End file.
